


Quantum Entanglement

by wanderingghost



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Shot, Short Story, Spooky Action At A Distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingghost/pseuds/wanderingghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you know that there's a diamond up there the size of a planet? It's a white dwarf, the compressed heart of a star. But it's not only a radiant diamond, it also emits the music of a gigantic gong."</p><p>When you live that long, distance doesn't matter.</p><p>[Basically Minewt as immortal worldly soulmate vampires]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quantum Entanglement

" **Quantum Entanglement.**

When you separate an entwined particle and you move both parts away from the other, even at opposite ends of the universe, if you alter or affect one, the other will be identically altered or affected. Spooky action at a distance."

The blonde leaned his head against the dashboard of the bed and lowered his book down. He glanced to the side where the other boy was sat in the corner, surrounded by an alarming amount of vintage vinyl records. Currently, his focus was on tuning his guitar. The string instrument twanged dully in the air every two seconds or so.

After a moment, the dark haired boy started plucking a melodic tune that was slow and nostalgic. It reminded him of the dusty nights they had spent together in the Moroccan port city of Tangier.

He missed the orange sunsets that blazed across the sky like a wildfire threatening to engulf the world, and the smell of sea salt that clung in the humid air. Holding hands while they walked the tired streets of The Souk, following the paths of ancient men like Augustus of the Roman Empire when it was still a free city named after the daughter of the Titan who held up the heavens.

"Let's go back to Tangier."

Minho stopped plucking his guitar and looked up at him over a stack of David Bowie records, lovingly collected over the decades. His eyes held an adequate amount of curiosity but they were still a flat blasé. He always marvelled at the way the boy could mask his emotions so well.

"Why Tangier?"

"Don't you remember the great time we had there?" he sat up straighter on the bed.

"I got mugged in Tangier," Minho replied, his voice almost sardonic.

Newt sighed as the older boy resumed his previous ministrations, head bowed with rapt attention as he repeated the composition once more. He was trying to think of another approach to persuasion when there was a series of loud urgent knocks from the front door. Minho stopped and glanced up with apparent irritation for being interrupted in his work.

He put his guitar down and walked over to the window to peek outside. Usually it was just his fans trying to get an autograph and he'd just mutter a few choice words at them through the glass. But this time he turned around to look at Newt with an exasperated scowl on his face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's Teresa."

Frowning in disbelief, the blonde quickly got up from the bed and went to look out the window as well. The girl's small frame stood outside on the porch, her dark hair a wild mess of curls and the panic in her blue eyes could be seen all the way from the second floor. She had a body of a man draped over her shoulders by the arm. They exchanged bewildered glances before Newt started across the room. A minute later, he was wrenching the front door open with Minho right behind him.

Teresa looked up delightedly at the sight of them.

"Newt! Minho!" she breathed in relief.

"What the shuck are you doing here?" Minho returned.

"I'm sorry, I'm really, really, sorry," she started earnestly. "I was just so hungry, I haven't eaten in weeks and I just-"

She sighed dolefully and looked at the body that hung limply over hers. Newt reached out and turned the dead man's face, devoid of all blood, upwards for them to see.

"You drank Winston," Minho remarked, a hint of enmity in his tone.

"I know you two were friends and I'm really sorry," she pleaded. "Can I please just come inside? Please?"

Newt glanced back to the boy behind him, who merely rolled his eyes and walked away. He then gestured for Teresa to enter the house, taking the body off her and dumping it on the sofa. Winston's head lolled to the side and she took the seat next to him. The girl continued to apologise until Newt told her that it was fine, and promised to help get rid of the body. She then settled back to her usual calm demeanour.

"Why haven't you been eating?" he asked her. "And where's Thomas?"

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and bit her lip nervously. Newt waited patiently for her to gather her wits and tell him what was happening. When she looked up, her eyes were red with unshed tears.

"We ran out of money," she explained. "He went to close a deal but I haven't heard back from him in days..."

"What?" he cried out in shock. "Why didn't the both of you come here instead?"

"Because Minho hates us."

"You're right, Minho does hate the both of you," the boy confirmed, leaning against the doorframe. Newt shot him a warning look. The pale girl sniffed dejectedly and looked down to the worn carpeted floor.

"Don't listen to him, you're both family, you can come here any time you want to," he told her.

"I never agreed to that," the other boy protested but they ignored him.

"Where did he go?" Newt asked and Teresa drew a deep shaky breath, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

"Tangier."

Newt exchanged a look with Minho, who knew exactly what was going through the blonde's mind. Coincidences didn't exist in his vocabulary, that the universe would never be lazy enough to throw random probabilities around space in the vain hope of them ever colliding with one another. Life was just a series of choreographed molecules, vibrating outwards against their polarities in an intimate spin of never ending pursuit. Everything always had to have a reason, and this was Tangier's.

"I'll bring him back," Newt hung his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his knuckles. "Just stay here till then. Lay low."

Teresa glanced towards the dark haired boy lurking in the shadows of the doorway then back to the blonde in front of her. She figured it was the best offer she could get so she nodded her head jerkily. Newt went back to the bedroom to pack his things, while Minho helped him buy a ticket from the only modernised piece of electronic in the entire house- his iPhone.

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" he asked, coming back with a booking reference.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, Min," Newt looked at him. "Thomas is my brother, he'll listen to me. Someone has to take care of Teresa. And don't forget to get rid of the body. I don't want to come back to the house smelling of bloody rot."

Minho stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around the blonde's slimmer frame. He stroked his feather soft hair and sighed, wondering if he was doing the right thing by letting him go off on his own. Newt gave him a firm reassuring squeeze back and stepped away to resume his packing. An hour later, Minho saw him off by the doorstep as he got into a cab bound for the airport.

* * *

The Moroccan port city was exactly the same as he had remembered it. The streets swirled with a rustic haze, the promise of new beginnings always around the corner. The smell of saffron, paprika, turmeric and numerous other spices filled the air as he walked through the busy market stalls with Teresa's note clutched in his hand.

The hotel Thomas had been staying at told him that the boy hadn't been back for two days, which was an immediate cause for concern. But he could guess the places he'd been to while he was here.

Jorge's establishment was a well-known haven for those of their particular acquired tastes, and if what Teresa said had been correct, it would be the first place that Thomas had visited when he arrived. The old man would never turn down another in desperate need. Knocking against a threadbare wooden door, he waited for the sound of the locks unlatching and his old friend's face appeared in the opening.

"Ah, I was expecting you."

Newt wasn't surprised. The door opened wider and he slipped inside to the dingy little coffee shop, the aroma of dark roasted coffee beans a stark contrast to the zesty bouquet outside. They sat at a nearby table and Jorge poured a cup of fresh brew for his visitor. Hundreds of years of experience had transformed the beverage into a work of art as he took a sip of the sweet caffeine.

"He came back again a day ago," Jorge told him. "That was the last I saw of your brother. He was going to meet Gally at Casabarata."

"Gally?" he questioned.

"There was a shipment of ecstasy involved." The blonde groaned at that. "They have a small warehouse near the jamaah Saudi, you'll be able to spot them there."

"Thanks, Jorge," he nodded before finishing his coffee. Newt clasped the man in a hug before departing for the flea market. By the time he arrived, the sun had started to dip over the decrepit roofs of the houses that lined the streets. He reached the large mosque south of the city centre and looked for signs of familiar faces.

Someone ducked quickly into a nearby building and he followed, peering into a broken window. He saw Thomas tied to a chair, half his face was bruised and blood ran down from his nose. The man he saw earlier was talking to a taller, bulkier one. When he turned around, Newt saw that it was Gally. They were talking about another shipment due by the docks and left in a hurry.

Making sure that the coast was clear, Newt opened the front door and stepped inside. Thomas looked up, horrified beyond anything at seeing the blonde there.

"What? Thought you'd seen the last of me?" he asked, smirking.

"What are you doing? Get out, they'll kill you!" Thomas hissed. "You need to leave! Now! There are more of them, th-"

The door was kicked open behind him and Newt stumbled forwards, almost tripping over himself. He turned around and froze, staring down the barrel of a gun.

* * *

There was a loud thump as Teresa dropped the bag for the fifth time, and Minho sighed for the millionth that evening. It was a lucky thing that he chose the most deserted spot to drop the body, even though it was further away and he had to drive longer to get there.

"I'm sorry, my fingers keep slipping," she said hastily.

"Yeah, whatever, just hurry up," he cocked his head. She grabbed hold of the bag again and they lifted it up over the fence where it fell on the other side. He jumped over then picked up one end of the bag, dragging it with him towards the abandoned derelict building nearby. The rancid smell of acid greeted them as they approached.

Teresa stopped at the edge leading to the pit of sludge and looked back towards Minho as he unzipped the bag. "Grab his legs and you can't drop him this time, okay?"

She nodded and went over to do as she was told. They heaved the body in the air and carried it towards the pit. "One... Two... Three!" They swung the body as far as they could into the awful murky depths with a loud splash. The chemicals were already starting to eat away at Winston's skin and flesh, as he bobbed once on the surface before being dragged underneath.

"That was disgusting," she commented. "How many times have you done this before?"

"More than I'd like to remember," he replied, bending down to pick the bag up. He paused in thought before folding it and tucking it under his arm. "C'mon, let's go. This place stinks."

He took a step forward when a sharp pain stabbed him through the chest. He grunted out loud and dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Teresa ran over to his side in shock, grabbing hold of his arms worriedly and asking what was wrong. His hand clutched the sore spot as he groaned in utter agony.

"Minho?!" Teresa raised her voice, afraid that he was dying or something. He might as well be with how much it hurt. He wasn't aware that their kind was capable of getting heart attacks. Then a sudden thought occurred to him that made his blood run colder than it already was.

Newt.

He swatted Teresa away and made to stand up but his knees buckled under him and he dropped to the ground with another groan. She went to help him up, placing an arm around her shoulders for support. Perspiration was starting to appear on his forehead and top lip.

"Where's my phone? Give me my shucking phone," he said through gritted teeth.

"It's in the car," she looked at him wide terrified eyes. "Minho, what's going on?"

"God damn it," he ground out as the pain suddenly magnified in intensity. "Get me back, I need... to call him."

She struggled to even keep herself upright with the weight of his body leaning against hers, she had no idea how she was going to get him back to the car. But she did, excruciatingly slowly, and by the time they had reached the black Honda, the pain had faded to a dull ache.

Minho panted as he sat in the driver's seat and tapped the speed dial on his phone. He couldn't stop thinking back to that moment before Newt was asking about Tangier. He'd been talking about that spooky theory from Einstein, how entangled particles altered together even if they were on opposite ends of the universe. Newt thought he never listened, but he did. He always listened, and he always watched.

Comparing them to quantum physics was exactly like that. They were bound together by bonds that transcended time and space, photons that were trapped in a cascade of electron decay. Where a single measurement on either of them would cause the entire system to collapse instantaneously.

He could hear his own shaking breaths over the thundering drums of his heart. The ring tone continued on like a ticking time bomb, about to drop at a second's notice. Then it stopped abruptly, a static noise scraped over the connection. Someone breathing in then exhaling.

"Min?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 4am, sleep deprived. In hindsight, I have no idea what just happened.
> 
> Sorta crossover with the movie Only Lovers Left Alive. If you haven't watched it, do yourself a favour and watch it now. It's a beautiful masterpiece; the quintessence of dust.


End file.
